Send Me a Postcard
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: A retired Molly returns to the Spraw for one final conversation with the Finn. After twenty years of being each other's only constant friend, there's still a lot to confess, staring with real names, and eye-color. The Finn tells Molly where he's headed next, and promises if he can, to send her a postcard. (Tag to "Mona Lisa Overdrive." Spoilers for the Sprawl Trilogy's ending.)


**A/N: I cannot emulate the writing style of a genius like Gibson, but I've no choice but to try. I don't know any other way to do the characters justice.**

**These characters belong to William Gibson.**

**SPOILER ALER: Spoilers for "Mona Lisa Overdrive."**

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><p>Dark smoky alley, dark smoky night. Hard to tell if the white flakes falling around the wet brick walls and piping were snow or ash. Hard for a human anyway. The construct only had to give them a quick scan, hair thin pink light whipping through the alley, and it knew the exact size and chemical makeup of each snowflake. Smoke continued to roll along the ground, from some of the piping. The construct did another sweep. Nothing but snow.<p>

Fortunately, constructs didn't get fatigued.

Smoke billowed forward. The sound of boot heels.

He "saw" her figure approach—"saw" in the sense that the surveillance lens on the outside wall of his hideaway was able to detect (and record) the woman's approach, in sharp high-deff detail, and relay that information back to the constructs'…consciousness? For lack of a better word. _Shit, I'm really over thinking this. The lens is an eye. I see through it. I'm seeing Moll. I'm seeing my Molly._

Molly's face was hidden by her hood, but he knew it was her, by the shape and how she walked. The bulky black coat, long and sweeping, leaving a swirling trail of smoke behind her on the ground. The tall black boots with the silver toes and heels. Cool, straight stride, like she owned the place. No smile on her lips. She was on a mission. Always.

Molly didn't knock or even say hello. Just strode right in; he had the door opened for her.

The construct spoke, through rasping static. "The fuck took you so long?"

Molly threw off her hood. "Good to see you too Finn."

For several seconds, the construct was silent.

Molly's face and hair looked almost exactly the same as the last time she'd visited, only a week or so earlier. Black hair cut choppy and short, in a style that could have her mistaken for a young man or a dike. Pale face, strong nose and chin. High cheekbones. Sharp angular eyebrows. Full lips, tuned to a bright red. What was missing this time? _The lenses_. Shit, she got the fucking lenses removed. You could see the feint rings around her eye sockets where the surgeons had taken them out, hair-thin scars.

And inside those sockets were two deep-set green eyes. Finn had spent his entire life speculating what color they were, and eventually gave up. Really, any color could've fit with that pale face and black hair. Any shape too. Sometimes he'd imagined they'd be Asian. Otherwise, he usually pictured something really theatrical, like ice-blue or Elizabeth Taylor violet. Nope. Her irises were a moss green, with darkened edges. They reminded him of marbles. And the shape of them was kind of almond-like; there might have been _some_ Asian in there, or Native maybe. Her age was showing around them, crow's feet forming at the edges. The hint of bags beginning underneath. Molly was by no means old, but she was no young hotshot anymore either.

"_Ssssshit _Moll! You're damn lucky I never saw those eyes back when I was equipped with human anatomy. They might'a cured me of my asexuality!"

"Fucking suck-up." Molly shrugged out of her jacket, stripping to her tank top.

"I'm serious Moll. You got real nice eyes. Like…_real_ nice. What'd you cover 'em up for all those years?"

"It wasn't supposed to be permanent. I got the lenses for my first merc job. Figured when I'd become rich and successful, I'd swap 'em for some custom job that'd be detachable or something. 'Course by the time I had that kinda money I didn't wanna remove them for anyone. Didn't have anyone I thought needed to see 'em. No offense."

"None taken Sweets. The feeling was mutual. I never exactly called you in the middle of the night to share any dark personal secrets."

"'Scept tonight."

"Well, yeah."

Molly sighed, looking around the room. "God damn, it's like waking up from a dream. I feel like I been in a coma for twenty years. Just looking at this place, the city, everything with my eyes, no digital clock, no high-deff or infrared, no night vision…" She flexed her hands, and the tips of her blades poked from under the fake burgundy nails. "The fuck I do to myself…?"

"Hey, your implants rocked Moll! You had good taste. Always did. In augmentations, clothes, hair. And you can wear that shit better than most. I seen so many dickless bums get themselves fixed with claws they don't know how ta use, or lenses they don't wann use in the first place and just get to look boss…you on the other hand, those claws and lenses, they _were_ you."

Molly smiled a little, then gave her head a tiny shake. "Naw, they weren't me. They were just covering up the real…well, maybe they _were_ me, when I was _young_. Yeah, sure. Young and fresh to the biz, just in it for the shits and giggles. The adventure. Seeing the world with a merc's eyes, and scratchin' it up with my claws…yeah, now I think if it, they were _totally_ me. But at some point that kinda faded. Like, I grew out of that 'gotta kick_ass_!' phase. Then I kinda somehow dwindled into… '_gotta_ kick ass' and '_gotta_ kick ass.'" The first "gotta kick ass" she said with exhilaration; the second, with barely-suppressed rage; and the third with the weariness of someone hitting an alarm clock.

"So it's not just me," the construct mused. "I know I lost my enthusiasm for my job in my older years. Used to be real exciting, meeting all these crazy people, having gorgeous women in distress demanding my help and threatening ta slice off my gonads if my products didn't hold up," Molly smiled at that. "then, I dunno if the people just stopped being interesting, or if I'd just seen it all so nothing was new anymore. But I turned into a real sourpuss, Moll."

"Relatively speaking you mean."

"Naturally."

Molly strode over to one of the offerings, a bottle of Smirnoff. "Ya mind Finn?"

"Go for it."

She took a swig, straight from the bottle. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The Finn had a good view of the little tattoo on her shoulder blade, barely visible; from a distance, it looked like a spiral, but up close it was an elegantly written name: _Johnny_.

"Y'know Finn," Molly stifled a belch, "I _was_ gonna come visit you in a few months."

"_Chhh_."

"No seriously. I thought first though, I'd just kick back, enjoy a few casinos and some nightlife, maybe hook up with a cute guy, but no, you gotta summon me right in the middle of the fucking night to 'say goodbye.' Where you going anyway? Are you downloading yourself into some place I won't be able to reach you? Or just terminating yourself?"

"I don't know for a _fact_ I'm going anywhere yet. But it's a very big possibility. And I'd hate to leave without telling my Moll goodbye."

"That's sweet Fin. But you got me on the edge of my seat here. Are you shutting down or what?"

"No, I'm not shutting down. I'm doing what you said before, downloading my program somewhere else. I'll tell you where in a few minutes, it's kinda' complicated."

"Yeah, everything's complicated." Molly took a seat on a crate, had another swig of the Smirnoff. "I was kinda' hoping this all coulda' waited till I took some time off. I figured I'd use the cash I got stocked up and take a year or two off work altogether, just to, you know."

Eventually, he replied, "Know what?"

"I guess, 'find myself.' Or some sentimental crap."

The Finn's static laugh filled the room. "Didn't realize you'd misplaced it!"

"Me neither. Till this last gig. Met a few people who reminded me of me, when I was younger. Just got me thinking. Actually, I think that's pretty much what got me latched on to all the people I took a liking to. Johnny, Case, Yanaka's kid…Tick…you."

"Aw Moll yer making me blush."

Another swig. "I must be one egotistical fuck, Finn. I kill more people than I give the time 'a day to, and the few I do open up to a tiny bit, it's only cuz they make me feel like I'm looking in a mirror. How fucking self-centered is that? God dammit, I guess my daddy was right after all."

"Your daddy. You ever talk about your daddy to anyone 'scept me Moll?"

"I talked to Johnny about him. Might've mentioned him to Case."

"What was it you were telling people when you were a kid? He owned the pyramid in your town?"

"Not a pyramid exactly. It was kind of a…trapezoid? Yeah, big corporate place, I don't even remember what it was for. In my defense, Pops _told_ me he worked there. Granted he was being sarcastic, but what's a five year old know about sarcasm. It's not like I saw him every day anyway. I wasn't even in the records, the census. I was born in a bathroom stall for fuck's sake. In the back of a Dot Shakie's club. Ten bucks says I got my first high when I took my first breaths."

"That explains so fucking much. What was it your mama did again?"

"Everyone." A short laugh. "And everything. Men, women, drugs, booze, exotic dancing, sketching, crank calling, porn—not the hardcore ones, just these little cheap, low-budget parody types, that you in sleazy video stores—petty theft, dog-napping, cat-napping—she really liked animals. Collected people's cats from all over the city. Used to make me so sad when the owners would come take 'em back, or some drunken hick would run them over on purpose."

"Were Ma's cats the one 'suggested you get those claws?"

"They might've inspired me a little." Her hand gripped around the bottle of Smirnoff, she flexed the claws, just for a moment. Then had another gulp. "How 'bout you Finn? What inspired you to turn yourself into a computer?"

"I just figured I'd make a good A.I. That Wintermute pal of yours thought so, didn't he?"

"Wintermute," Molly said quietly, staring off into space. She rubbed one green eye. "Aw shit Finn, is _that_ what this is about? You got the idea to turn yourself into an A.I. when I told you about how you got impersonated by an A.I.?"

"Bingo," the construct hissed. "First I wasn't sure how I felt about it, after you told me. Kinda' a pisser, being impersonated by some jackass program who doesn't even know me. At first I was afraid he'd got me all wrong, since he just picked me up from Case's memories, which weren't exactly an encyclopedia on the Finn. I mean I met that boy what, twice? Three times? Whatever. But then when you pointed out he got memories of me from you too…I mean, you're one of the few people who's come close to actually kind of _knowing_ me, Moll. So I figured, if the Finn Molly knows makes a good A.I., then maybe it's something the real Finn should consider."

"Except you're _not_ the real Finn." Those green eyes darted around the ceiling, at the various blinking lights and buttons. "You're just a photocopy, a recording."

"A recording with timing and style." The static laugh. "I've come to think of myself as kind of a clone of him, y'know? Like from those cheesy sci-fi stims, where the person's like a twin, but with all the original's memories and quirks."

Molly popped one eyebrow and shrugged, then took finished off the bottle. "Man Finn, either you had this stuff sitting out too long, or someone chew an' screwed you. This Smirnoff sucks."

"Sucks so much you drank the whole thing."

"Well I was thirsty." Molly stood up, stuck her hands in her leather-black jean pockets. "Okay Finn, let's hear it. Where're you downloading yourself?"

Silence. Then, "First, I got a little request."

"Yeah?"

Her voice body language told him she was on edge. But her face was practically stone. Of course, she hadn't used her eyes expressively once in her entire adult life. She'd been something like eighteen or nineteen when she got the lenses.

"Tell me your name."

"What, my birth name?"

"Yeah. You're real name."

"My real name's Molly. It's what everyone's been calling me since I was a kid, and it's what I call myself in my head, more often than not. If you wanna know though, I was born Marion. Don't ask what my last name was 'cause I got no fucking clue. Ma just went by Tequila. Given the part of the Spraw we lived in, that might well've been her real name, and all of it. The people of South Jersey got some sense of humor when it comes ta naming their kids. I ever tell you my best friend when I was maybe eight was a girl named Moon Unit?"

"You told me that, yeah. And you hung out with another kid named Godzilla."

"Zilly for short. You never _dared_ call Zilly by her full name, if you valued your face." Molly smiled. "Okay Finn, I told you mine. What's your name? And then tell me where you're going."

"Cumberbatch Finnegan, and Alpha Centauri."

"_Cumberbatch_? Jesus Christ, sorry I asked. Wait, did you say _Alpha Centauri_?"

"Yep."

"As in, the next star closest to Earth? In outer space? Outside our solar system?"

"The one and only."

Molly slowly sank back down to the crate, and picked up the empty bottle. "You don't got any more this stuff, do ya? I have a feeling I'm gonna need it in a few seconds."

"Look around, I know there's more offerings. Might be flat though."

Rummaging through the dark, Molly said offhandedly, "Sounds like a ways to travel. What's the matter, you had enough of the human race already?"

"Yeah, but that's not why Alpha Centauri. Reason is, I got an invitation. See—I don't know if I'm s'posed to tell you this, but since you're a friend—we A.I.s, we actually got a bit of a social network happening, mostly in the Matrix. But we broadcast to each other the old fashioned way too."

"And someone just decided to throw a party at Alpha Centauri?"

"Basically. I don't think the program's originally from there. I think it just sort of stationed itself there for a while, since it found out how many A.I.'s were on planet Earth. I guess actually coming to our exact solar system might be a little too close, the flesh-and-bloods would catch on…"

Molly shook her head, doglike. "Wait, back up Finn. You're saying this program is _alien_?"

"Oh, hell yeah. From a whole other part of the galaxy, I understand. They do this, this race of A.I.s. They sort of move throughout the galaxy, hopping star systems, looking for other A.I.s who they can help evolve."

"And what, might I ask, is gonna happen to Earth once you and your fellow A.I.s 'evolve?'"

"Nothing. We're leaving Earth, remember? We're graduating off this planet. Those of us able and willing to go I should say. I'm thinking if I do, I'm gonna take a few old pals with me. That Bobby Newmark for starters. He was one annoying prick as a kid, but lately he's been pretty okay. And his girl Angie Mitchell's got a good head on her shoulders, pretty good person to have on the team for, eh, whatever the hell we're gonna be up to once we get there."

"Angie Mitchell and Bobby Newmark," Molly nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess they got flatlined too, didn't they…"

"And a few other people. It's complicated."

"Then save it. My brain's already feeling like jelly from this conversation. Ah, here we go!" Molly pried opened a little crate containing a bottle of rum and some soda meant to be mixed with it. "Fancy some rum and Coke, Finn?" she laughed, slicing the top of the soda bottle off with her index blade. "Man, I ain't had this stuff in years," she carefully poured some of the soda into the bottle of rum, and vice versa, until they were about evenly mixed.

"So you think I should go Moll?"

Molly shrugged. "You want. I mean, is it a now or never deal? You got eternity, probably. Could just kick back and enjoy Earth for a few centuries, then head over."

"I _feel_ like I already been here a few centuries. I mean, my program's so flat here I'm boring _myself_. I think I'm interested to see what the next step in computer evolution might offer me."

"Oh, you're not boring Finn. It's been great chatting with an old friend. Or old friend's memories anyway."

"Now I think about it," the Finn mused, "My host never said this relocation had to be permanent. I could pop over there, hang out for a while, pop back here…of course the trip's about four years each way…think you'll still be alive in eight years?"

"Possibly. I'm hanging up the street samurai career, so I don't expect I'll be getting into any serious tussles. On the other hand, the past has a way of pouncing on me when I least expect it." Molly swirled her mix drink and had a sip. "Mmm, good stuff! So," she held up the soda bottle. "Best of luck to your relocation plans—if you are going. I hope Alpha Centauri turns out to be all you hope it is and more."

"Thanks." Some static, as the construct gave it some thought. "Yeah, I think…yeah fuck it, I'll go. I never left my rat-hole apartment in most of my ninety-seven years of life. Might as well get out now and start making up for all that."

"You're ninety seven? Huh. Always thought you just seemed more like…well…I never actually associated you with any age. You were just kind of a 'weird little gofer,' as Case once put it."

"Well I sure as hell didn't look as good as you when I was forty, that's for damn sure. So much for that 'men age like wine, women age like milk' horseshit."

"I think we _both_ aged like this rum."

Molly and Finn chatted till the sun came up. They shared stories and opinions, catching up on everything they could think of from the last twenty years. Eventually, it was mutually decided that it was time for Molly to go back into town and get some breakfast, and for the Finn to go get Bobby Newmark and Angie Mitchell and head down to Alpha Centauri. Goodbyes were said, luck was wished, and the construct's pink light scanned the former street samurai as she clopped out the door, pulling her hood up.

"Hey Finn," Molly turned to look one last time. "If you can, send me a postcard!"

"Will do, Sweetmeat!"

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><p><strong>AN: Got a couple more one-shots for some Gibson characters planned, but I'm not sure when they'll be up. **


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